


Did you see the motorbike...

by solrosan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidents, Motorbike, Multi, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, aka What Happened When I Watched The BBC Drama Trailer, hospital stay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solrosan/pseuds/solrosan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Mary crash when they chase after a suspect on a motorbike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did you see the motorbike...

**Author's Note:**

> This was about the first thing I thought of when I saw the BBC Drama trailer. The ending was supposed to be differently, but I couldn't get there.
> 
> The first part was originally posted as a [Tumblr fic](http://solrosan.tumblr.com/post/59967784107/so-everyone-and-their-glow-in-the-dark-rabbit-is).
> 
> The title is obviously from Amanda Abbington's [tweet.](https://twitter.com/CHIMPSINSOCKS/status/374084680548495361)

Lestrade dropped John off in front of the A&E. John nodded once as thanks for bringing him there before hurrying inside.

”There was a motorbike accident,” John told the nurse behind the front desk, ignoring that she was on the phone. “A man and a woman. They were brought here. She’s… He’s… Where…?”

The nurse put a hand over the phone. “I’m sorry, sir, you—“

”I’m their husband!” John yelled, banging his hand against the desk. For a short moment the entire A&E became quiet except for the ringing in John’s ears. He took a breath and said, much quieter: “Her husband. I’m her husband. He’s my… my...”

”Sir, come with me.” A man put his hand on John’s back and led him from the front desk. “You’re John?”

John nodded.

”The ambulance got here about ten minutes ago. The woman—“

”Mary.”

”Mary, was unconscious upon arrival with head trauma, suspected internal bleeding in the abdomen and an open tibia fracture.”

The information made John’s head spin and he tried to find something to focus on. ”Left or right?”

”Left. They’ve taken her into surgery.”

”She’s B positive.”

”We know,” the man ensured him. “The man—“

”Sherlock?”

”Yes, he told us.”

”He’s okay?” John stopped.

”He’s slightly concussed, lots of bruising, some cuts, and we have someone looking over him, but he seems all right.”

John put his hands over his mouth, nodding to show that he had taken in that information as well. He leaned against the wall to keep upright.

”Are you all right?”

John nodded again and removed his hands. “Yes. Yes, I’m… I… Can I see him?”

”Of course.” The man put his hand on John’s shoulder to once again gently lead him somewhere. John followed, his head still spinning but the ringing had quiet down some. The man opened a door to his left. Inside were five beds, two occupied. Sherlock was sitting on one of them, having a cut on his lip cleaned by a nurse. John’s mouth went dry.

”Addie,” the man shepherding John said and both the nurse and Sherlock looked up. “This is John.”

Sherlock met John’s eyes. ”Mary…” he said, voice rough.

John nodded as he walked up to the bed. He gave the nurse a quick look and, after she had nodded her agreement, he took Sherlock’s hand, resting his forehead on Sherlock’s shoulder.

”I’m sorry.”

”Sch…” John whispered. “It’s not your fault.”

”I thought I could…”

”She’ll be okay.”

Sherlock shook his head. John raised his head, finally taking a moment to actually look at Sherlock. He looked horrible, not just the cuts and bruises but the shock and guilt in his eyes made him look… not like Sherlock.

”She’ll be okay,” John said again.

Sherlock just shook his head.

John turned to the nurse. “Can I finish the…?” – he made a gesture at Sherlock’s face – “I’m his do… I’m a doctor.”

The nurse hesitated, but seeing how little there was left to do she left John the tray and took a step back. She didn’t leave their side though.

”I’m sorry,” Sherlock mumbled again as John washed his hands with antiseptic gel and put on gloves. “I really thought I could…”

John shook his head; he didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to comfort with words and have to make promises that weren’t in his power to keep. He wanted to focus on the task at hand and mend the small, physical wounds Sherlock had caused himself. When he was done he took off one glove and stroked Sherlock’s dirty hair before stepping back to let the nurse assess what he had done.

”Who can we talk to, to get an update on our—“ John started to ask, but a look from Sherlock made him stop and rephrase, “…my wife?”

”I’ll go and ask if they know anything yet,” the nurse said, still looking over Sherlock before turning to John. “Do you want anything? Tea?”

John shook his head.

”Just information,” Sherlock said. The nurse nodded and promised to be back in a bit.

John waited until the nurse had left before sitting down on the bed next to Sherlock, taking his hand again.

”It should have been me on the back of that motorbike,” he said after a long silence.

Sherlock shook his head. “I should be the one in that theatre.”

* * *

Mycroft showed up when Mary had been in surgery for roughly three hours. Sherlock had given up by then, the physical and psychological strain getting the better of him, and he had fallen asleep, leaving John to pace the halls alone in the wait for news.

”He’s fine,” John said as soon as he saw Mycroft approaching.

Mycroft nodded, probably already knowing this. ”Anything on Mary?”

”Not in a while. Sherlock’s in there—“ John pointed at a door “—if you like to see him.”

”No, I trust your assessment,” Mycroft said. “But I can walk the hallway for a while if you want to take a break. I will find you as soon as there’s an update.”

John nodded. “I need to call Mrs Hudson.”

”If there’s anything I can do.”

John forced a smile and nodded again. There wasn’t much to do other than wait, not even for the most powerful man in the United Kingdom.

* * *

Mrs Hudson arrived at the hospital during surgery hour number five. Sherlock was still asleep at that time and Mycroft had excused himself about half an hour earlier. She brought John tea he didn’t ask for and held his hand in silence as they sat next to Sherlock’s bed and watched him sleep.

* * *

Sherlock woke up just before daybreak. He looked around the room disoriented, trying to sit up in his bed. John stumbled out of the chair where he had spent the night after Mrs Hudson had left.

”Hey, easy,” John said, helping Sherlock to sit up better. “How do you feel?”

Sherlock made a pained face.

”Do you want anything?”

”No.” Sherlock shook his head. Then he looked at John in horror. “They didn’t give me anything, did they?”

”Nothing more than paracetamol,” John said, calmly patting his hand. “You went all by yourself. Do you want some more?”

”It doesn’t work, but yes.” Sherlock felt his swollen face with hands. “What time is it?”

”Five to five,” John said, ringing for the nurse. “Mary’s still in surgery.”

”I know,” Sherlock said. “You wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t.”

John was about to protest, but Sherlock was probably right: Sherlock was stable, Mary wasn’t and John couldn’t be in two places at once.

A nurse came to see what they needed and returned with paracetamol. Then she helped them to raise Sherlock’s bed and left them after promising to see if she could get an update on Mary.

”They’ve set the fracture,” John told Sherlock when they were alone again. “They’ve removed her spleen and they believe that they have the bleeding under control.”

”Her helmet cracked.”

”Yeah, she has some swelling in… They haven’t been able to tell me anything concrete about that.”

”What have I done?” Sherlock mumbled, closing his eyes and sinking deep into the pillows.

John squeezed Sherlock’s hand lightly. The lump in his throat was suddenly threatening to suffocate him.

* * *

After sixteen hours Mary finally left the operating theatre and moved to the post-surgery ward. John wheeled Sherlock there less than 20 minutes later. Sherlock had refused the wheelchair at first, but according to John it was non-negotiable and when Sherlock saw Mary in her bed he was glad he was sitting down. Mary had bandage around her head and her face looked worse than Sherlock’s, but she was breathing on her own.

John parked the wheelchair next to the bed. Sherlock reached out and took Mary’s hand in both of his as John leaned down and kissed Mary’s broken lips. Sherlock shook his head over and over again.

John pulled up a chair next to Sherlock, putting a hand on top of Sherlock’s and Mary’s.

”It’s not your fault, Sherlock,” John whispered, not taking his eyes of Mary’s bruised face.

* * *

Sherlock was discharged later that day, but refused to leave the hospital. When Mrs Hudson came with fresh clothes for them John had fallen asleep with his head resting on Mary’s bed.

* * *

Sherlock looked up from his mobile as John stepped back into the room. John just shook his head. Nothing new. It was the third day they had received that news. The first day there had been slight improvements, but after that there hadn’t been any change at all.

”John…”

”No.”

”John.”

”No.”

”Do you even know what I’m talking about?”

John nodded and sat down on the chair where he had spent the better part of this week. “It’s not time yet.”

”That’s not what I’m saying.”

”What, then?”

”I don’t know what she wants.”

”What?

”I don’t know what she wants,” Sherlock said again, looking from John to Mary. “We never had the time to… We never discussed it.”

”Sherlock.”

”Not that it matters if I know or not,” Sherlock kept going. “You’re the one who’s married to her.”

”Sherlock, please?”

”Do you know what she wants?” Sherlock asked, looking back at John. “Because I don’t.”

John shook his head.

”‘No, you don’t know’ or ‘No, you don’t want to talk about it’?”

”Sherlock…”

”You don’t want to talk about it?”

”No.”

”But you know?”

”Damn it, Sherlock!” John yelled.

”But—”

”No!”

Sherlock became quiet, looking back at Mary. The swelling in her face had started to go down – his too – and she looked more like herself. Still completely different. He didn’t quite understand why.

He got up from his chair and left without another word.

* * *

John was snoring. They had a bed in the room, courtesy of Mycroft and against protocol. It could probably fit both of them, but they hadn’t tried yet. This was actually the first time John used it, otherwise he always insisted on Sherlock having it.

Sherlock rested his head against Mary’s bed, gently stroking her fingers with his own. His head was pounding. Again. It actually started to worry him, but he’d be damned if he told John about it. He closed his eyes, listening to John’s snoring and Mary’s breathing. It was usually very calming sounds, but right now they were just distressing.

“I’m sorry, Mary,” he whispered. “Please, don’t die.”

* * *

Around mid-day, six days after the accident, Sherlock noticed a small movement in Mary’s face. Sherlock slapped John’s thigh as he jumped up from his chair.

“What?” John asked, but wasn’t slow to get up as well.

“Mary?” Sherlock said, one hand on her shoulder, the other hesitating to touch her face. “Mary, do you hear me? Mary?”

“Sherlock, what are you…?” John looked confused from Mary to Sherlock, but Sherlock didn’t take his eyes of Mary.

“She moved.”

“What?” John looked back at Mary, who was just as still as she had been the entire time they had been there. The hope that had flared up in John’s chest died quickly.

“I saw it,” Sherlock said. 

“It could have been just a spasm.”

“No.”

“Sherlock.” 

“I saw it,” Sherlock said again, much quieter this time. John put a comforting hand on Sherlock’s back and took Mary’s hand. 

Sherlock never reached out and touched her face.

* * *

On day seven they took her back to surgery. The surgery only took five hours this time and, just like last time, the surgeon was satisfied and cautiously optimistic. John and Sherlock stood at the end of her bed, holding each other’s hands, watching her breathe, watching her be alive. 

“I don’t know what she wants either,” John said. “If we have to make a decision you’ll have to do it. I can’t.”

“You’re her husband.”

“So are you.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Damn it, Sherlock!” John turned to face Sherlock. “Yes, you are. You’re her husband!”

Sherlock shook his head.

John sighed. “Sherlock, you ca—”

“Are you punishing me?” Sherlock interrupted him. 

“What?”

“For this.” Sherlock didn’t look at John, instead he kept his eyes fixed on Mary. “I must say that it’s a very innovative and cruel punishment.”

“No.” John made him look at him. “Sherlock, it’s not your fault. It was an accident and I know that she was the first one up on that motorbike.”

Sherlock shook his head again and looked back at Mary. “Then what makes you think I can do something you can’t?”

John sighed. He took Sherlock’s hand again, leaning against his shoulder.

“You’re _our_ husband,” he whispered. 

Sherlock squeezed his hand in response.

* * *

A week after being discharged from the hospital Sherlock finally left it. He stood up without a word and just walked away. John watched him go, disappointed but at the same time surprised that it had taken this long for the lack of stimuli and helpless frustration to become too much for him.

When Sherlock came back eight hours later he reeked of cigarettes. John didn’t have the heart or energy to even comment on it.

* * *

It was Sherlock who saw the movement this time too. Or felt it, rather. He had his head on Mary’s bed and felt something stir nearby. When he lifted his head and looked up he met Mary’s blue eyes.

“Mary,” Sherlock whispered, sitting up properly as Mary closed her eyes again. John, sitting on the other side of the bed, looked up from his laptop, first at Sherlock who took Mary’s hand and then to Mary who forced her eyes opened again.

“Mary,” John said quietly, getting to his feet. He smiled. “Hi there. I… Hi.”

Mary turned her eyes to him. “Hi,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Hi,” John said again, lightly putting a hand on her cheek.

“Wha… w-wha…?”

“There was an accident,” John told her. “You and Sherlock crashed the motorbike you stole chasing after the suspect.”

Mary’s eyes grew wide, turning slightly to face Sherlock. “Sherl… Sh…”

“I’m fine,” Sherlock quickly said. “But he got away. Lestrade’s lot has been completely useless while we’ve been here.”

Mary managed to smile. She raised her free hand, searching for John’s, and turned back to him. 

“Wss… W… We…re.”

“What?” John leaned closer to hear what she tried to say.

“Sor…” Mary paused, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “Sorry. We’re… sorry.”

John looked confused for a moment, then he started laughing. “You’re idiots. Both of you! ” 

Sherlock and Mary looked at each other as if they didn’t know what he was talking about. Sherlock even shrugged, but when Mary winked at him he started to smile and before he knew it he was laughing in relief along with John.

Mary smiled.

For the time being, everything was well.


End file.
